was paralyzed.
“Phyllis, you all right?”
Phyllis’ mouth was clamped shut. Her eyes were those of a scared child who’d seen a horrible crime. She looked as if someone had pasted her against the wall with some strong adhesive. Shock, that’s what it was.
Sheila held her belly and began to laugh. “Phyllis, girl, are you all right? You look like a scared rabbit stuck on the wall.”
“I peed on myself—in my brand new suit. Paid a little money for it, too, but not so it could smell like pee.”
Sheila fell on the couch and laughed to her heart’s content. “Get up off the floor. And you’re going to clean my carpet before you leave.”
“Did you kill Victor?”
“Hell naw; he’s still alive.”
47
Raphael walked briskly away from the hospital and jumped in the Lexus. His mind was heavy…heavy with Mimi’s betrayal, heavy with the dark thought of finding Victor Christianson who’d come blasting into his life without notice, although, unbeknownst to him, Victor was a thread in his life dating back nineteen years ago.
The sun was almost set—the moment right before total darkness. Dark clouds began to form in the sky, kind of like the mood Raphael was in. His mood was thick, unpredictable, although the clouds’ movements seemed to be swift and sure. Raphael drove blindly through the streets without any direction, without any formal plan, and without any idea of how to begin. He wasn’t sure where he was as he’d only been in Durham a little over forty-eight hours, but if he needed it, the car was equipped with GPS. Clearing his head was paramount because he needed to think things over.
Mimi’s legs were a little shorter than Raphael’s and the seat needed adjusting. He reached for the lever to move the seat back, and when he did, a portion of a wooden box peered from under the seat. Raphael reached down with one hand while keeping his eyes on the road and pulled the box up. Sitting the box on the seat, Raphael unlatched the lock that kept the box closed. Upon opening it, his medium brown eyes became large brown saucers.
Honk, honk, honk. “Damn,” Raphael said, steering the car quickly to the right to avoid a collision with the car to the left of him. “Whew, that was close.”
Raphael picked up the gun and sat it carefully in his lap, making sure not to call attention to him. He drove until he saw a grocery store and pulled into the parking lot to further examine the gun.
Mimi had good taste—a twenty-two Ruger with a pearl handle. Whomever she planned to pop, she was going to do it in style. And Raphael had an idea who it was—Victor Christianson. Well, he had the gun now, and all he had to do was find Victor before the police did. How he was going to accomplish that, he wasn’t sure, although he knew that one part of his plan was solved.
Raphael thought about driving to NC Central’s campus, but it was too late in the day. It was six-thirty and everyone would be gone. He drove on aimlessly through downtown Durham that would have been scenic if darkness hadn’t approached, but then he saw the sign that gave him an idea.
He turned onto Pettigrew Street and headed for the Greyhound Station. Luck was on Raphael’s side, and he eased into the parking space made just for Mimi’s car. He jumped from the car and ran inside and found a phone book. Flipping the pages with his finger, Raphael found a listing for Victor Christianson in Chapel Hill.
Taking an ink pen from his jacket, Raphael recorded the address on the back of a piece of advertisement that he scrounged from inside the terminal. Satisfied, he returned to the car and entered the address in the GPS. It was about a thirty-minute ride, but he was up for it, not sure what he was going to do when he got there.
Raphael turned on the radio to distract his attention from what he might be on the verge of doing. He drove down the interstate, rolling around in his sub-conscience what he would do if this or that scenario presented itself, ignoring Mimi’s phone calls that were coming every five minutes.
The exit for Chapel Hill loomed in the distance, and guided by the friendly voice of the navigator, Raphael left the interstate and travelled where directed. Even under the cloak of darkness, it wasn’t hard to tell that the neighborhood was affluent and that if